And as lovely as the Darcys summer wedding trip to Scotland has been . . . join us in Book 5 (currently being posted on my Patreon) as the Darcys return to England and face the music . . .
XOXOXO Elizabeth Ann West
Chapter 40 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
All eyes in the ballroom watched with pure captivation as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of London, Pemberley, and Carver House opened the first ball at their Scottish home in over twenty years. Mrs. Darcy sparkled from tiara to slipper in jewelry and hair combs that no one but the happy couple knew were all gifts from her husband. For her gown, she had selected a silk of deep amethyst to contrast with her sapphires and diamonds. But most of all, the purple hue set off her glowing complexion and brown eyes in a most fetching manner to the only one she sought to impress as the opening notes of a reel began.
But with the first steps of the dance, Elizabeth suddenly felt that something was horribly wrong. She began to feel self-conscious, and panic threatened to overcome her countenance as once more her mind played vignette after vignette of negative outcomes for her family members. She grimaced as she accepted the hand of Lord Agnew for the partner change before circling around and accepting Fitzwilliam’s arm once more. They moved down the line one couple and began the sequence with a new pair as Lord and Lady Agnew promenaded to the end of the line.
“I should have called off this exercise,” Darcy managed between clenched teeth as he and Elizabeth fulfilled their obligations of the foursome. Elizabeth clapped while her husband spun Lady Margaret and then bowed, then she performed the same with his lordship before taking Fitzwilliam’s arm to move down another couple.
“But I so dearly love to dance!”
She forced a smile and added an extra bounce to her next few steps in an attempt to reassure her husband. But he was no fool. Much like Elizabeth knew when Darcy told a white lie, but apparently not a large falsehood, Fitzwilliam had come to learn Elizabeth’s subtle ways of displaying her anxieties. In his mind, he counted how many more couples they had to go and focused upon watching her carefully in case she might faint again.
But his worry was for naught, as the song ended and Elizabeth proclaimed a monstrous thirst. Not waiting for her husband to attend to her, Mrs. Darcy marched over to the punch bowl in a vision that shocked Mr. Darcy at first until he hastened to follow his wife. Elizabeth urged the footman to pour her a full glass and had downed nearly half of it by the time Fitzwilliam reached her.
“Lizzie, is this wise?” He had leaned close to her ear for the admonition while she waved her hand as if swatting a fly.
“It is not your feet that are likely to be tread upon all evening while you wear nothing but slippers. This is the way we ladies survive.” Elizabeth made her little jest and took another healthy drink as her next dance partner, accompanied with Fitzwilliam’s partner for the next set, approached them. Elizabeth dutifully took her place in the line with his lordship after finishing her punch and another set began. And after each set, without fail, Mrs. Darcy made a straight line for the punch bowl so that, by the fourth set, the poor footman had a glass at the ready for his mistress.
By the time of supper, Elizabeth spent most of the meal leering down the long table at her husband and finding him to be the most desirable man in the room. On her left, Lord Randolph talked extensively about the woes of sheep farmers and the falling price of wool, while the gentleman to her right offered no intelligent conversation whatsoever but ate as though his last meal sat before him. Elizabeth called the footman over a number of times to fill her wine glass, and by the second time she no longer looked at Fitzwilliam when he raised his eyebrow at her drinking from down the table. Elizabeth Darcy felt determined she would get through this night, and if her mother had taught her anything it was that a good defense often began and ended with one’s wineglass.
Finding her stomach protesting any further addition, it took a great deal of concentration to look up from her chair at Fitzwilliam leaning over her without feeling dizzy. After a slight delay she realized it was time to dance once more, and she found it inordinately humorous she could no longer feel her toes. As the violinists began to play, she and her husband once more opened the dancing. Elizabeth giggled with every step and began begging pardon as she horrifically bumped into the couple next to them by going in the wrong direction.
“Elizabeth, perhaps we should sit this set out.” Fitzwilliam attempted to lead his wife off the dance floor, which would cause a ripple effect in the set but not if he did so in place of the Grants before they promenaded to the back of the line. Unfortunately, Elizabeth was not keen on failure. She flopped her arms down and stomped her foot, throwing off her balance, which she managed to regain after a slight sway.
“We cannot. It is simply not done.” And she marched forward to take the next spot while Darcy shrugged apologetically to the Grants.
After another disastrous foursome, this time Elizabeth forgot to take her steps with the opposing male partner entirely. Fitzwilliam nodded at the couple as his wife slurred her speech almost incomprehensibly. When at last the beats came for another couple to leave the line, Fitzwilliam wrapped his arms around his Elizabeth and supported her at both elbows to gracefully guide her to a sofa in the far corner of the ballroom. However, as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were the hosts for the entire fête, hardly anyone bothered to pretend disinterest. The room was filled with marriages of both convenience and wealth- gaining, with the Darcy’s marriage by far the youngest. Unintentionally, the stigmas and prejudices of old money smirked and grinned at the demonstrable disaster a love match seemed to have brought.
But Elizabeth was beyond any feelings of self-consciousness. She crossed her arms across her chest to sit up on the sofa; her husband leaned forward and turned to his torso as though to shield his wife from the view of others.
“My darling, you are very upset. And while I understand your anger—”
“How do you understand my anger, Fitzwilliam, how?” Elizabeth struggled to say her husband’s name.
Darcy dropped his voice even lower. The music of the previous dance had ended and an odd hush fell over the ballroom before another set could be started.
“I do not profess to know why you are so angry. I wished to cancel this evening and you implored me to still hold it. And yet you are incapacitated and…” Fitzwilliam’s anger at the loss of his wife’s personal responsibility to represent the family well began to rise in his chest and storm against every ancient tenet of his upbringing.
“I dishonor you?” Elizabeth asked a little too loudly, her eyes half closing in sleepiness.
“No, you do not dishonor—” Mr. Darcy soon realized even with his wife in her cups she was still slightly manipulative, and that this had all been a ploy to further punish him.
But Mr. Darcy had had enough of his wife’s admonishment and so he stood very gallantly and made his apologies. The ball had practically frozen over the dramatic behavior of Mrs. Darcy both at supper and during the dancing. She’d been so drunk that when Lord Randolph rose to give his speech, Mrs. Darcy had cried out in the middle of it, “Oh, do carry on!” to the slight amusement of some but the utter horror of others. Fitzwilliam Darcy knew what he had to do.
“I’m afraid my wife as fallen unwell. Please, friends and family, enjoy yourselves while I see her to bed and I shall rejoin you in but a moment.” Fitzwilliam Darcy bowed for everyone’s understanding, then Lord Douglas from the back felt he had to shout.
“And if you don’t come back, lad, they’ll be none of us that judge you for it!” The crowd erupted into laughter as Darcy soured at the insinuation that he would take his wife’s favors in the state that she was in. Thankfully, as Elizabeth had completely passed out upon the sofa, and much like he had at Netherfield Park when she had fallen asleep in the drawing room her first evening out of her sick room, Fitzwilliam scooped up his wife’s diminutive form and began to carry her. He was faithfully followed this time by servants of his own household.
To further relive their past, Elizabeth stirred partway up the stairs and recognized herself safe in Fitzwilliam’s arms. She looped her own arms around his neck and pressed her face and to his shoulder.
“I am so sorry, Fitzwilliam.”
“As am I, Elizabeth. As am I.”
Chapter 41 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
Pain awakened Elizabeth. Pain in her legs, in her arms, across her torso, and most thunderously in her head. She lifted one hand to press her palm against her forehead and gingerly opened her eyes. Immediately, the sting of too much drink the night before took its payment for her folly.
“Fitzwilliam?” she croaked as she closed her eyes once more, but turned her face in the direction of the side he normally slept. When she didn’t hear a sound or sense any movement, she asked once more. “Fitzwilliam?” Her voice came out stronger but still scratchy from her overwhelming thirst.
The continued silence unnerved her, and her eyes flew open despite the pain of the light coming in through the window as her heart and mind worried about far more important matters. Groaning, she used her hands to push herself up in her bed and then immediately cradled her head with her hands, trying to will the throbbing to stop. She looked around her room and realized she was all alone.
Heart ache shattered in her chest, and she found it difficult to breathe under the realization that for the first night in their marriage she and her husband had slept alone. Tears began to fall down Elizabeth’s cheeks, but her crying aggravated her situation as her body held not even enough water for her to cry properly. Wracked with dry sobs the door to her room opened and her husband strolled in, carrying a large tray with his own two hands in a shocking display of servitude for the great Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth gasped mid-sob as Fitzwilliam struggled to close the door with his foot as he had seen the servants do many a time and finally settled upon bringing the tray to his wife’s bedside table and then addressing the stubborn door.
Elizabeth still watched him with complete bewilderment as he finally spoke.
“A great many of our guests have called for their breakfasts in their beds and so I took it upon myself to check with Mrs. McSorley that all was in order and,” Fitzwilliam stumbled as he tried to think of all the things that his wife took care of, “I also spoke with Mr. Warner to make sure there were no difficulties with closing the ball last night. The first carriage for departure has been called for the afternoon, but everyone intends to leave as planned.” Fitzwilliam continued to stand as Elizabeth felt her heart melting at her husband’s attempts to fix her own mistakes by drinking far too much and making a complete embarrassment of herself.
“This is all so very wonderful, but I am parched.” Elizabeth massaged her throat to emphasize her need as, though her husband was making great amends, the symptoms of her hangover had not abated on adorableness alone.
“Of course, of course.” Darcy hastily poured his wife a cup of tea and didn’t have time to even put in her customary two lumps of sugar before she greedily reached for it and began to drink. “Have you ever imbibed that much wine?” Darcy found himself amused by his wife’s vulnerable position.
Elizabeth shook her head, initially at a speed she would normally use and then slowed down as that was a regrettable decision.
“No. Does your head always hurt this badly?” she asked, and Darcy laughed. Gallantly, he poured himself a cup of tea and joined his wife by sitting on the edge of her bed.
“There are only two ways to solve the problem. One is to endure the pain and take nourishment, or . . .”
Elizabeth prompted him when he didn’t finish his thought before taking another drink of tea.
“Or?”
Darcy shrugged. “Or you keep drinking.” He laughed deeply in a hollow baritone only his closest family ever heard as Elizabeth scrunched up her nose and looked positively horrified at the idea of drinking any further.
“And I might ask how do you know so much about this particular ailment? I’m slightly frightened to know the answer.” She finished the last of her tea and slowly collapsed back against her pillows.
“Why, you drove me to drink, of course.”
“Me? I did nothing of the sort,” Elizabeth said halfheartedly. She closed her eyes but did not wish to go back to sleep. She merely wish to stop the assault of the morning sun.
“That is where you are mistaken.” Darcy leaned forward to peck his wife’s forehead, eliciting a cheerful moan from his wife’s lips, but he denied her further affection. Instead, he gently patted her thigh. “There was another letter from your sister that arrived last evening. I don’t think you to be in any kind of shape for this, but I have learned my lesson and will not deny you. I am afraid to say that this one was sent by Express.” Darcy’s voice dropped almost to a whisper as he handed his wife the thin missive.
Elizabeth’s hands shook as she took the parchment and carefully broke the seal. She began to read: her jaw dropped in horror, and she began to wail an awful keening sound before Fitzwilliam gently took the letter from her as he crushed her into an embrace. Over her shoulder, he read the missive.
Lizzie,
I have scarcely the time to write to you and I hope this reaches you with great haste. I am sad to report that Longbourn is lost. The house burned last evening and, despite everyone’s attempts to put out the flames, we have lost Mrs. Hill and young Gregory. Our father, I’m happy to say, survives, but only just.
Despite our best efforts, christening little Charles and Lynn distressed our father and provoked an argument with Mr. Bingley and our Uncle Gardiner after the church service. Our father called for the carriage, and our mother refused him to remain at Netherfield with Lydia and Mary. In short order, our mother shared with us what you already suspected. Father has suffered from the effects of apoplexy for nearly a year.
It appears he suffered another spell while alone in his study and he knocked over a candle. The flames alerted the footman, Gregory, who managed to drag our father out of the room with the help of Betsy. But he had not thought to beat back the flames and so, distracted by our father struggling for breath, the entire study was ablaze before the first messenger even was sent. Gregory went back into the house to warn the other servants but the gable crashed under the loss of the study. He and Mrs. Hill I am so sorry to write, perished.
Father has been seen to by Mr. Jones, but he cannot speak. His left arm and leg remain immobile, and though his writing hand functions we can hardly make out the scribblings he writes.
Mother has taken to her bed, and while Charles and I are more than capable of housing our sisters and parents, there is now a complication. I am certain Charles is writing in more detail to Mr. Darcy about what follows. It would appear that negotiations for renewing our lease have fallen through and so we are all to be turned out in one month’s time. While Charles and I may impugn upon the generosity offered by Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and our aunts and uncles have offered to take our sisters and parents in divided sets, I feel as though it may be best for us to keep the family together. Charles and I never intended to purchase Netherfield Park and we had planned to look for a suitable home in Derbyshire this autumn.
I am loath to ask for your forgiveness of Father, but I am not so sure that which has plagued him has not robbed him of his better senses for a longer period of time than we knew. If you and Mr. Darcy can find it in your hearts to come back to England, and send word, Charles and I will bring everyone to Pemberley. Our Uncle Phillips has said that the cost to rebuild Longbourn would exceed our father’s savings, as our mother’s extravagances did indeed run deep.
Please advise at your earliest convenience what assistance you might lend.
Love,
Jane
P.S. Kitty wishes me to tell you when our father was dragged out of his study, his hand gripped around a small mirror we all recognize as yours. The metal burnt his hand, but he keeps the trinket next to his bedside, and if anyone tries to move it he flails and moans. I don’t think he ever meant to lose you, Lizzie. I only hope that you and Mr. Darcy can forgive the trespasses of an ill man.
As Elizabeth sobbed against her husband’s chest, Fitzwilliam found his own eyes tearing up at the wretched misfortune plaguing the Bennet family. But he quickly pulled himself together, as he considered his own letter from Charles likely waited for him in his study. Gently, he shushed his wife and kissed the top of her head until finally Elizabeth pulled back to look at him with tear-filled eyes.
“Fitzwilliam?”
“You need not even ask. Of course our family is welcome to retreat to Pemberley.” Darcy leaned forward to kiss his wife’s swollen lips as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs. “Besides, I never wished for my heir to be born in Scotland!” he chuckled.
Elizabeth gently shook her head, remembering her mistake from before. “I warn you, it is too soon to know for sure. It could be stress, or illness,” she cautioned.
But Fitzwilliam inhaled deeply and leaned his forehead against his wife’s. “Or it could be our miracle amidst all the scandal. That was the other part I needed to tell you. The death of Mr. Wickham is a complicated matter because he was involved with criminals of the worst sort. And I am afraid that I misjudged the motivations of the Duke of Northumberland. I may have to spend time in London answering for George’s misdeeds.”
“Then we shall do so together,” she said. But Fitzwilliam shook his head and looked down at her torso, and she knew what he was thinking without him having to speak.
“You know I would not wish to risk . . . Though I can’t bear the thought of leaving you. I more than sense the irony of asking you to trust me in this, but I must.”
Elizabeth bit her lower lip and wished she knew for sure she was with child, even though so soon after their irregular marriage would likely invite talk.
“It does not matter. So long as I can trust you will never lie to me again, we can move forward from this. Come what may.”
“They may seek repayment from our coffers,” he warned.
Elizabeth laughed and wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Then I suppose it’s good luck that you married a wife more than comfortable with economy.”
NEW RELEASE
For the Love of a Bennet
What if Elizabeth Bennet traveled with Lydia to Brighton?
A reimagining of Jane Austen’s most beloved tale, Pride & Prejudice, join author Elizabeth Ann West as she writes the romantic adventure story she always wanted! When Lizzy and Lydia arrive in Brighton, it’s very clear that the younger Bennet sister came with very serious plans towards Mr. Wickham. Thankfully, an old ally is also in town, with problems of his own to solve. After Mr. Darcy, himself, is summoned to Brighton to hopefully solve two dilemmas with one wealthy member of the gentry, the whole militia is thrown into an uproar by Wickham’s most dastardly deed, yet. Together, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy have to save Lydia from her own undoing, or it will mean more than just mere reputations are ruined.
For the Love of a Bennet is a novel length story, currently being posted chapter by chapter on Elizabeth’s author site. This story was originally conceptualized in 2019 as a part of the All Go to Brighton challenge.
Chapter 42 - The Trappings of Marriage, a Pride and Prejudice Variation
As the Darcy staff packed the line of carriages, Mr. Darcy subsequently gave each vehicle his personal inspection. Higgins found herself hesitating next to Mrs. McSorley on the top step of Carver House. The two women stood silently watching the last of the preparations, the elder for any signs of malfeasance and the younger merely for the experience.
“I enjoyed my time at Carver House, I only wish it to have been of a longer duration as was originally planned.”
“Carver Castle.”
“I beg your pardon?” Higgins looked furtively at the carriage across the path she was to ride in with Simmons and another maid being promoted from Carver to Pemberley.
Mrs. McSorley sighed. “It’s Carver Castle, and it has always ever been until the elder Mr. Darcy insisted on calling it a house. But she will stand. Aye, she shall stand.” Mrs. McSorley gave a rare slip of the Scottish burr she kept tucked from her accent as Higgins watched the older woman gaze up at the Gothic features of the home and wistfully accept it would go dark once more.
“Well, they say that Mrs. Darcy’s family is to join us at Pemberley. That’s why we’re taking Miss Susan.” Higgins felt grateful that she would not be asked to wait on the three Bennet girls. “I have a feeling that Carver Hou—Castle will not be empty for long.”
What Higgins didn’t share is that she wasn’t sure if it was Mr. and Mrs. Darcy who would be returning for their own recreation, or if it would be other family members banished as a poor relation to the remote home. Some delicacies she had to keep as secrets between herself and Mrs. Darcy.
“If this experience be anything of a lesson to you, it’s that a servant’s lot is crushed upon the whims of their master. Don’t let your affection for Mrs. Darcy blind you from the fact that you to have a life to live, Elizabeth Higgins. A life to live, indeed.”
The final calls for the servant’s carriage rang out, and Higgins hastily curtsied to her mentor before accepting a surprising hand of assistance from none other than Mr. Simmons. The jolt of excitement at the prospect of another adventure overcame Higgins’ melancholy for the great house to be shuttered once more.
Whether it would be for another score or less than a year, no one could say. But the surrounding neighborhood had basked in the glory of Carver Castle one last time as a reminder of the heritage she carried. And it would not be soon that the wild tales of Mr. Darcy’s elopement and house party would fail to entertain many a neighboring table.
You’ve been reading The Trappings of Marriage
Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet are off to Gretna Green!
In Book 4 of the Moralities of Marriage series our dear couple have survived accidents, forced marriages, and meddling relatives. After a short stay at Pemberley where the future Mrs. Darcy comes to terms with the kind of wife Fitzwilliam Darcy will need on his arm, they take off for the border to marry over the anvil. When Mr. Darcy plans an idyllic wedding trip to his family estate just outside of Dumfries, the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Darcy discover the trappings of marriage have yet to relinquish their hold.
The Trappings of Marriage delivers the highs of the Darcys’ love and devotion in spite of the lows of scandal and destruction they left behind in England. Join author Elizabeth Ann West and the thousands of readers who read this book as it was posted chapter by chapter for a unique visit into the world of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.
The Trappings of Marriage, Book 4 of the Moralities of Marriage
a Pride and Prejudice novel variation series
Release Date: August 26, 2017
394 pages in print.
+ 23 additional Pride & Prejudice variations are available at these fine retailers . . .
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A Jane-of-all-trades, mistress to none! Elizabeth Ann West is the author of 8 novels and 11 novellas, 18 of which are story variations of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.